Previous Posts: February 2014

Polish officials accepted a painting at the Polish consulate in New York that had been stolen from the National Museum of the City of Warsaw in 1944 on Thursday.

“National heritage is a crucial element of every national identity and as such, stolen pieces of history should be returned to their rightful place,” said Ewa Junczyk-Ziomecka, Consul General of the Republic of Poland at the repatriation ceremony. The painting “St. Philip Baptizing a Servant of Queen Kandaki” by German painter Johann Conrad Seekatz, was looted during the Second World War.

Even before the war, the painting was misidentified as “St. Philip Baptizes the Ethiopian Eunuch” by Dutch artist J.C. Saft, and in 2006 it was sold for $24,000 as “Manner of Theobald Michau St. Philip Baptizing the Ethiopian Eunuch.” Doyle New York, an auction and appraisal company, sold it to Rafael Valls Ltd. gallery in London in October 2006.

The Poland government recognized the piece as one of its lost articles and worked with the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) to recover it. In 2012 it was verified as a stolen piece of Polish art and Rafael Valls, the current owner, agreed to forfeit it.

The present lot shows Banksy’s lighthearted attitude as he attaches googly eyes to one of the most famous paintings in art history. Banksy recreates Rembrandt’s well known Self Portrait at the Age of 63 (1669) and covers the expressive eyes, perhaps what Rembrandt’s portraits are best known for, with googly eyes. This simple act undermines the painting itself and encourages the viewer to question the nature of art, creating a piece that is not only witty but visually very amusing. Poignantly, in this case Banksy has altered a work in a similar fashion to his grafti on London’s buildings. However, this practical joke is not without forethought. His appropriation of Rembrandt’s nationally beloved self portrait invites the viewer to question why this act seems so audacious, why this painting is valued so highly and, foremost, what constitutes great art. As a street artist, Banksy is no stranger to graffiti being deemed ‘low art’ or even ‘vandalism’. Consequently, he aims to subvert what we consider ‘high art’ by taking a famous painting, catching the viewer’s interest with attention grabbing googly eyes and creating a piece that is entertaining, thought provoking and progressive.

Lucien Smith’s Feet in the Water, 2012, is part of a series of highly acclaimed rain paintings from the rising talent, whose work is becoming greatly sought after. They represent abstraction, emotion and nature with simple figurative gestures which mimic the rain, an instantly recognisable element fraught with symbolic meaning. Smith ironically pokes at this notion whilst depicting the beauty of the rain and, indeed, nature itself. The rain series was created when Smith, distracted and enclosed by the city, moved upstate. This isolation from the city allowed him to work on a larger scale and, most importantly, reconnect with nature, which Smith used as a catalyst for his art. Additionally, the time spent upstate encouraged Smith to work with different tools, in this case, the fire extinguisher. His innovative use of an old fashioned fire extinguisher filled with paint to spray his canvases is especially effective in this particular case as it physically imitates precipitation with falling droplets of paint. The effect is original and representative yet abstract, referencing the artists Smith was inspired by, from Jackson Pollock to Morris Louis. Rain as a subject matter is not only indicative of his appreciation of nature; it also illustrates a larger metaphor. Smith explains, “When I was looking through comics, I’d run across the same image of characters trapped in the rain. It’s like a universal symbolic image of being sad and alone.” (the artist Lucien Smith and Bill Powers, purple NEWS, 2012) For this reason, Smith progresses towards the use of light blue paint, as in this particular lot, because of the allusions to sadness. Furthermore, Smith noted that rain is often illustrated in light blue, which encouraged him to start using this colour. Consequently, the piece is representative of rain both physically and allegorically, whilst retaining a beautifully simplistic pictorial space.

Tate and the National Gallery have an agreement that is renewed every decade that sets the parameters of each institution's collection strategy to avoid overlap and competition. The line has hitherto been drawn around 1900, the point at which the National Gallery hands the story of Western art over to Tate Modern.

The acquisition of the Bellows blurs that line as it was produced in the second decade of the 20th Century, which has always been very much Tate territory. It raises the prospect of the two national galleries competing for certain paintings in the future, which either could argue fits within their historical art narrative.

A couple of things about the reporting on this: much has been made that this is only the second American work in the NG’s collection, after the Inness landscape.  Which, by the way was cleaned recently and has been displayed on the main floor of the Gallery.  More important, and somewhat overlooked, is the fact that while the Bellows is the second work by an American artist in the collection OF an American subject, there have been, and are, other works BY American artists in the collection.  The Sargent of Lord Ribblesdale still forms part of the collection and Whistlers like this one have also been displayed there relatively recently.  The press releases for the acquisition of the Bellows make something of its relationship to artists like Manet but, of course, both the Whistler and the Sargent are more closely connected so are they now going to form part of the main display?

One further thing: the division of the spoils date-wise between the NG and Tate has never been absolute or logical.  Tate has hung on to one of the loveliest of Degas pastels  - the drawings and sculptures by Degas can’t be transferred – and Tate clearly wasn’t interested in taking the Nationals latest complete work.

The Bellows is a wonderful addition to the National Galleries collection, but makes the pressure on wall space, if the break off period is now 1910, for the NG/Tate divide, critical. I wonder when the National Gallery will bite the bullet, and start to built a brand new extension on the Radisson Blu Hotel it owns to the east in Whitcomb St.

Congratulations to the National Gallery for acquiring its first significant American painting.  However, one is left to wonder about the true cost of the £15.6m George Bellows canvas, 'Men of the Docks.'

Last year an important painting ('Richmond Hill') by renowned American artist, Jasper Cropsey, was subject to a temporary export ban by Ed Vaizey to provide a last chance for a British museum or gallery to save it for the nation.  The National Gallery declined to step in to meet the £5m asking price and the painting, in the UK since it was originally painted 150 years ago, was lost overseas.

The importance of the Cropsey painting (an artist not represented anywhere in the national collection) was recognised by the National Gallery itself in 2000 when it was also at risk of going abroad and the then Director, Neil MacGregor, campaigned for it to be saved.   So why the change of mind?

In the past twelve months, export stopped paintings by Domenico Puligo and Niccolo Gerini have also been lost despite their importance and exceptional works by Benjamin West (born in America) and Alonso Coello are currently at risk.  None of these artists are represented in the permanent collection of the National Gallery and all four would cost less than two thirds of the price of the Bellows painting.

Bold acquisitions from overseas are to be encouraged but is it right that this should be at the expense of equally as important works more closely associated with this island's history which continue to leave these shores with depressing regularity?

According to Mr Lenain, author of Art Forgery: The History of the Modern Obsession, the Italian frequently forged artworks in order to obtain the originals from their owners by giving them the copies. On one occasion, Michelangelo made a painted copy of a print representing Saint Anthony by the engraver Martin Schongauer, making his version so similar to the original it was impossible to tell which one was which.

Speaking at the VIEW festival of art history, Mr Lenain said: “He admired these originals for the excellence of their art and sought to surpass them.”

This is not the first time rumours of the artist’s forgeries have emerged. One anecdote describes how in 1496 a young Michelangelo copied a Roman sculpture, Sleeping Cupid. He buried it in the ground to give it the various stains, scratches and dents needed to make it look like a genuine antique. He then used a middleman to sell the piece to Cardinal Riario for a substantial sum.

The allegations regarding Michaelangelo emphasize the point that "fakes" are originals by the faker or copyist and may be by a very good or great artist.  Selling them as being by another artist is, if course, fraud.  However, if Michaelangelo's early fraud were detected and prosecuted we wouldn't have his sculptures of David and Moses, or his Sistine Chapel frescoes.

The Chagall Committee is based on the same sort of tunnel vision logic that led to the fall of France 74 years ago.

A painting bought by a British businessman who thought it was by famed artist Marc Chagall is a "very bad copy", an expert Paris-based committee announced, though it ruled out any hasty destruction of the fake.

Martin Lang spent £100,000 (121,000 euros, $163,000) on what he believed was an original work by Russian-born artist Chagall in 1992, but learned it was a fake when his painting was tested for a BBC documentary and sent to the Chagall Committee for verification.

Lang was shocked when he found out that the committee intended to keep and destroy the painting -- a nude -- wishing instead that they mark the word "forgery" on the back of the canvas and return it to him.

Under French law, counterfeit work can be destroyed, and the committee told AFP late Tuesday that it could go to court if the 63-year-old property developer refused.

"It is a very bad copy of an original 1911 painting that is in a private collection. A stylistic analysis is enough to conclude it is fake," it said.

"Unlike what is suggested in the documentary, the association does not take any arbitrary measures and does not proceed with any destruction without prior agreement from the owner, or failing that, without court authorisation," it said in a statement.

"When the destruction is authorised, it is implemented by a bailiff who chooses the most suitable method according to the nature of the support of the counterfeit work."

Lang had insisted in an interview that the painting was his property -- fake or not -- and had pointed out that the canvas could be evidence against the forgers and should therefore be preserved.

Chagall, who died in France almost three decades ago, is considered a pioneer of modernism. His work can sell for millions.

The Chagall Committee is run by the artist's grandchildren to protect his reputation in the art world.

Notifying S&P that it was considering legal action, the Corte dei Conti [Italy's auditor general] wrote: “S&P never in its ratings pointed out Italy’s history, art or landscape which, as universally recognised, are the basis of its economic strength.”

Is that why Gordon Brown, when Chancellor, insisted that national collections add the value of acquisitions to their balance sheets?

If the Italians were successful it could strengthen the Scottish case to include national collections as assets in a devolution divorce settlement from a less united UK.

I open the bidding for David at one million lire.

You report (The works of art that could not be saved for British collections, 31 January) the "loss" abroad last year of 33,000 works of art and other items of cultural value. This is less serious than it sounds. Most were everyday sales from private collections here to private collections elsewhere. Welcome to the art market. The small number that were of high potential importance to UK museums were properly identified by the export review system.

Of these, only six of the original 19 were successfully acquired for public ownership. But it is the sharp decline in public funding for the arts, rather than the export controls themselves, that lies squarely behind this failure. The works which the culture minister, Ed Vaizey, challenged curators to fundraise for in 2013 were, at £115m, worth 50% more than those he export-stopped in 2012; meanwhile his government oversaw funding cuts averaging more than 20% across the sector. With such a background it was remarkable that as many as six were saved.

Agencies such as the Heritage Lottery Fund and the Art Fund continue to do all they can to guard the UK's arts and heritage against the ravages of the government's austerity programme. In the case of the National Portrait Gallery's current campaign for Van Dyck's self-portrait, a number of trusts and foundations, as well as significant sums from public donations, are also of crucial help. The combination of high art prices in a buoyant international market, currently fast-fuelled by hungry private investors, and a sorry parallel decline in national and local funding for UK museums, is the only enemy.

Stephen Deuchar, Director, Art Fund

Things of late are better but I do think it’s worth looking at a longer historical perspective – maybe because I’m that old. Up to the mid-1980s the National purchased around 5-6 works each year out of its acquisitions grant from government – it simply can’t do that now for the simple reason its grant-in-aid doesn’t leave enough spare after running costs.  And it certainly couldn’t step into the international market to snap up say the major Gauguin it has been looking for for years or a work by Schiele – I don’t think even the advent of the John Paul Getty Jnr money would allow it to do that – and both were possible at one time.  Part of the problem, as you no doubt realise, is the level of market prices but if the previous level of support had been maintained it would have been able to acquire van Dyck’s self portrait and several other works without resorting to seeking additional support.

And regarding van Dyck, the last time they bought one without additional support was in 1984, when they at last got a major subject piece – the Lonsdale Charity,  The same year they also acquired the Bassano Calvary (with NHF help), the Rosa Witches (for £350,000), the Pissarro of Sydenham (at auction from a foreign source for £561,000), the David portrait of Blauw (from France at last and the UK’s first David), and the Wright portrait of the Coltmans (at auction for £1.4 million with HMF help of £400K).  What would they need now to cover that lot.

[...] it would be nice (and nice implies unlikely) if a shift in British character towards more generous contributions would occur.  Supported by significant income tax incentives and estate tax benefits (i.e. government funding) US residents are  more charitable than our British counterparts at all income levels.  Part of this obtains from the benefits mentioned already, but also it is a matter of social standing and custom.  When the Thomas Eakins painting "The Gross Clinic" was to be sold to Crystal Bridges, Philadelphia Museum of Art and The Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts raised USD 65 million to keep it in a city already replete with his work.  Several individuals gave five million each. Britain has ten times the population of the Philadelphia area and plenty of possible donors for its museums.

Waldemar's story is as inspiring as the art that inspired him, and must make us appreciative at having overcome more privileged upbringings to also become diligent and productive.  The talents of many artists arose from cauldrons like the one he experienced.

At first glance, Plenty and Progress seems to embody the affluence evoked by its title: Titchner's sculpture is spectacularly glossy, bursting with a vibrant red reflected within its own mirrored surfaces. Yet a close inspection reveals that the apparent plenty is only surface deep. The sculpture isn't precious metal but stainless steel, a material of austerity, while the circularity of the work seemingly resists any notion of linear progress. The work invites the viewer to consider the issues raised, without providing any conclusions of its own.

I wonder if Michelangelo and Raphael's tondi also resist any notion of linear progress. The last sentence is a classic of the genre.

I wonder what the Guildhall Art Gallery paid for the Mark Titchner 'sculpture' - it's ironic that you should blog it on the very day you also report the export ban on the Benjamin West from St Stephen's Walbrook - which should surely go to the Guildhall if it isn't going back into the church.

On another topic, with respect to contemporary art such as Peace and Prosperity I prefer the old maxim "res ipsa loquitur" to the Guff that critics compose from their basket of jargon blocks.